


What If

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, POV First Person, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the first moment I saw you, there was something that drew me to you. The casual flirting was enjoyable, but it soon turned into something stronger, deeper; something far more serious, especially on my part. You were always hard to read, even to me, and I've known you longer than anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to and including Season 6, and the beginning of Season 7.  
>  All lyrics used belong to Kate Winslet. Told from Grace's PoV.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Here I stand alone with this weight upon my heart  
And it will not go away  
In my head I keep on looking back, right back to the start  
Wondering what it was that made you change*

From the first moment I saw you, there was something that drew me to you. The casual flirting was enjoyable, but it soon turned into something stronger, deeper; something far more serious, especially on my part. You were always hard to read, even to me, and I've known you longer than anyone else.

Right from the beginning, you were short-tempered and sometimes arrogant. You played by your own rules and bollocked the rest of us if we did as you did. You kept us all at arm's length, even me sometimes, yet when you wanted to let someone in, you chose me. You'd sit and tell me about your son disappearing. You told me how you met your wife. Whenever a case bothered you, it was me who you would seek comfort in.

Then something changed. I didn't know what it was, but you became more distant and withdrawn. I know Mel's death had a lot to do with it, but to me, there was something else.

Imagine my surprise, then, when one day you said it was me. My first thought was hurt, because you were telling me that I was your problem. But I was wrong, something you never let me forget. You told me you were attracted to me and that you didn't know how to act on those feelings. You didn't know if I felt the same way and you didn't want to make a fool of yourself. I remember laughing at that and telling you that you were blind at times.

Our relationship changed after that day. 'Love' was never mentioned, and sometimes I wonder if it ever entered into things. Being with you was everything I expected, and I found myself soon disappointed. I suppose I thought…I hoped…that maybe I could change you, even just a little. Make you happier, more comfortable. But I saw no difference; in fact, you seemed to be getting worse, and I didn't know why.

Then we had That Argument, and I left, fully intending never to come back, to either you or the job. I eventually returned to one, but not the other.

*Many roads to take, some to joy, some to heartache  
Anyone can lose their way*

I think I did lose my way after that; in fact, I think we both did. The next thing I know, you're making eyes at another woman, and right under my nose as well, and then you suddenly announced you were off to America to see her.

I was stunned and shocked, and more than a little bit hurt, but I knew I only had myself to blame. I had walked away from us, from you; could I honestly expect you to just pine away for me? But when you said you were flying to New York, there was a catch in your voice, and I don't think it was wishful thinking on my part. You seemed hesitant to leave, as though you were waiting for me to say something, or you weren't sure I'd be here when you returned.

*And if I said that we could turn it back, right back to the start  
Would you take the chance and make the change?*

But I didn't say what I was thinking, and you turned and left. When you came back, you were brighter and happier than I'd ever seen you, and while to your face I said I was glad, behind your back I was crying.

And now I'm at home alone and my mind is taking me down the same line of questioning as it has been doing for weeks now.

*Do you think how it would have been sometimes?  
Do you pray that I'd never left your side?  
If you and me could turn the hands of time  
If I could take you back, would you still be mine?*

I don't know the answers to any of them, and I'm not brave enough to ask you. I want to, but it seems like every time I see you know, you're announcing that either you're going to America or she's coming here. No, I don't have trouble saying her name, I just prefer not to. And yes, being a psychologist I understand what that means, but to be quite frank, I don't care.

And as usual, I come back to the same thing, and that is I tried. Whether I tried my hardest or not, I don't know, but I attempted to give you what you needed. You never told me if I did or not; in fact, you never told me anything. It's like we got together and you stopped talking to me. Like you needed me as a friend more than you needed a partner.

*'Cause I tried but I had to draw the line  
And still this question keeps on spinning in my mind  
What if I had never let you go?  
Would you be the man I used to know?  
What if I had never walked away?*

Questions, always damn questions. I know you're with her now, that it's her turn to visit England. Suddenly I'm struck with the urge to phone you, to ask you all these questions without preamble and see what you do. I don't know why the answers are important to me, I just know they are. I keep reminding myself that I was the one who walked away, who left you.

But I know the reason, I just don't want to admit it, not even to myself. But I should have told you. Maybe it was what you needed to hear, maybe you would have run far away from me.

The wine I'm drinking gives me the Dutch courage I need, and I grab my phone, dialling your mobile number. It goes straight to the answer machine and my heart takes a nosedive, but before I give up completely, I tell you what I should have told you before.

*'Cause I still love you more than I can say  
If I'd stayed, if you'd tried  
If we could only turn back time  
But I guess we'll never know*

Not knowing, that is what hurts the most. I don't have many regrets, I find them rather pointless. But where you're concerned, I could write a long list of them. I disconnect the phone on a whim and turn my mobile off. Mission accomplished, I now find I don't want to talk to you or even see you. I don't cope well with rejection; maybe that's why I left you first. Before you left me. The 'jump before you get pushed' syndrome.

I'm on my way to the kitchen for another bottle of wine - it's a regular occurrence for me and it is the weekend - when there's a knock at the door. I'm not worried it's you; I phoned less than five minutes ago and even with the way you drive, you wouldn't have made it here by now. But as I walk to the door, I start to slow. At this time of night, I have no idea who could be calling round, unless there's been an emergency.

An ambulance was almost needed after I opened the door because fainting and having a heart attack were probable things to occur. You're stood there, soaked through from the rain, your phone held in your hand. I guess you'd just listened to the message I left, but that meant you must have been on your way here anyway. I wonder why.

Then I force myself to look into your eyes and I gasp quite loudly. I recognise that look; it's like watching two hot coals burning, and suddenly I'm afraid. Not of rejection, but of acceptance.

"Why did you come here?" I ask, dimly aware that's not what I was going to say, but obviously my brain had other ideas.

"Sarah's gone. She won't be coming back," you reply, your voice a little hoarse. "She wanted something I couldn't give up."

"Your job?" I guessed, trying to quell the storm of emotions in me.

You shake your head slowly. "The part of me that belongs to you."

I step back from the doorway, but not in retreat. "You can come in if you like, but," I say, holding my hand up, "Only if you want to try again. Properly, this time. Both of us need to try."

Without hesitating, you take one long stride towards me, suddenly standing so close that I can feel your breath on my face. "I want to try, Grace," you say. "Before…when you left…I didn't realise why…but Sarah…believe it or not, she made me see sense. But then she asked me if I was over you, and I didn't answer. She said if I was, I'd give myself to her completely. I knew then that I couldn't."

You lift your hand to my cheek and I can see it's shaking. Reaching up myself, I take hold of your fingers, steadying them. "You'd think we'd both be old enough to know better," I say with a smile.

"I'll certainly learn from my mistakes this time," you reply, cupping my face. I lean into your touch, surprised how much I had missed it. "Grace, I…I love you. I was so stupid before and…."

I put a finger to your lips, marvelling as usual at how soft they are. It's something that never ceases to amaze me. "Let's forgive and forget, shall we?" I suggest. "And try to concentrate on the future instead."

"A wonderful idea, Dr Foley," you reply, leaning down and kissing me.

The weeks of separation, that somehow had grown into months, just dropped away and it was like the whole thing had been a bad dream. When we surfaced, our arms naturally went around each other, and our bodies met seamlessly, seeking comfort and solace as we had before.

"So, what did I interrupt?" you ask eventually.

"A drinking session. But I hate to drink alone." I look at you and smile. "Would you care to join me, Peter?"

You smile back and take my hand. "I'd love to, Grace."

Somehow, I know there'll be no more regrets, no more 'I'll never know's in the future. This time, we'll make it work. My smile grows when I think of how the rest of the team will react when we tell them.

FIN


End file.
